Chapter Text

∞Rumpleteazer∞

You were never meant to be on the Junkyard. Not Jerrie, either. You both arrived one night after several months of running through streets at night and cowering in bins and behind boxes during the day. You had to get through our baggage from your old life, in the gangs. You had to get used to not being scared for your lives at all times. You had to get used to not having to hurt cats for your own safety. You had to get used to not having to kill rule breakers – just because it was your duty. You, of all cats at the Junkyard, know just how lucky you are, and you appreciate that.

This is why when someone complains, usually one of the kittens, you tend to leave the conversation entirely, but sometimes that’s not exactly an option.

‘It’s so unfair,’ moans Victoria, ‘none of the toms here respect me! I cuddle with them and talk with them and clean them and let them clean me, and they still treat me like a stupid little kitten!’

You mentally roll my eyes and pray to the Everlasting Cat for some patience. You’ll need it for this. You’re lying with her, Electra and Etcetera on the car in the main clearing, taking turns cleaning each other, and while you could make some excuse or other and leave before she annoys you further, you know your tendency to leave conversations has been noted. You may as well start breaking that habit now. The others are looking awkwardly around for a conspicuous change of topic, but you’re going to tackle this problem. Starting now.

‘Maybe you need to make it clearer to them what it is you want,’ you suggest, ‘that way they can treat you in a way that seems more appropriate for someone of your mental age, not your physical age.’ Truth be told, if they treated her appropriately for her mental age, at this point they’d be going ‘goo-goo gaa-gaa’, but you neglect to mention that.

‘I asked Jelly when they started to treat her like an adult, and she said it wasn’t until her first heat, and that could be years off for me!’ Victoria wails, ‘I want to be treated with some respect, and I don’t want to wait for something I have no control over!’

With a slight shudder, you remember your first heat. That was back when you lived with Macavity’s gang, and you spent an entire week in the furthest den you could from your brother and tried hard to stop having disgusting thoughts about him, while you gave off a scent that made you irresistible to any tom in the area – as demonstrated by Tibalt, the big grey bastard who first made you fear toms. You sigh and take a few deep breaths.

‘Trust me,’ you say to Victoria, trying to seem as respectful as possible, ‘as soon as you have your first heat, you’ll take being treated like a kitten for the rest of your life in a heartbeat, if it’s anything like mine was.’

‘Trust me!’ she shrieks with high, cold laughter, ‘The favourite phrase of any condescending cat who just happens to have been born before me! You think because they know how it was with yourself, you know how it will be with me! You’ve only been here barely two years, and you’re acting as if you’ve known me all my life!’

You stare rudely, dumbfounded by how badly someone could misinterpret you when you were only trying to help. Electra and Etcetera both attempt to hush her and, sure enough, you see other groups of cats in the clearing turning towards you, ears twisting, desperate not to miss any new gossip. You look around and realise with a scowl that Jerrie is nowhere to be seen. You sigh. You’re going to have to talk this one out. Good thing you’ve had Jerrie with you to argue with all your life.

‘That’s not what I meant, Victoria,’ you start in the most soothing voice you can muster, ‘I was just pointing out how horrible heats often feel, and saying that you might not like the benefits once you see the drawbacks. I wasn’t trying to make a decision for you.’

Victoria freezes, face quickly twisting back from outrage to something more subtle. Contempt. She says with a somewhat sad look in her eyes, ‘I suppose so. I’m terribly sorry, Rumpleteazer.’ You flinch at her using your full name so formally. ‘I don’t know how it feels, but I will someday.’ She sighs overdramatically. ‘If only there was some way heat could be fun.’

‘Mum says she only ever enjoyed hers when she was with dad, and they could mate during it. That’s how we were born,’ explains Electra. Victoria looks interested at this point.

‘So you’re saying, if I found a mate, my heats could be fine!’ she exclaims in triumph, ‘I could even have fun with them!’

You want to discourage her from this so badly, but you fear that if you stay in the conversation much longer, you’ll end up annoying her again. You say, carefully, ‘That may be true, but be careful. Your heat is when you’re mostly likely to have kittens. And I don’t think-‘

‘Stop thinking for me, okay?’ she cuts you off, sounding sweet but with an incredibly savage look in her eyes.

‘Fine.’ You say shortly and hop off the car. As you walk away from the car, you hear Etcetera start a new conversation, and feel somewhat relieved. But you feel eyes on your back as you stalk awkwardly away, and you’re certain that they are Victoria’s.

You return to your den, hoping Jerrie’s there, but to no avail. You sigh, find the blankets which smell most like him, and hunker down in your favourite corner. You fall into an unsteady sleep, hoping against hope that Victoria does what’s right. You couldn’t bear to see someone with such a good start in life mess it up so horribly.

Chapter Text

∞Plato∞

The beautiful crescent moon glows brightly over the Junkyard. The main clearing is empty except for you, Pouncival and Tumblebrutus, lying on the tyre. You dislike talking with only toms, other than Tugger. No closeness or cleaning each other, just badly made jokes and slightly stilted conversation.

‘I mean, I’d go for Bomba,’ begins Pounce cautiously, ‘if she wasn’t so… So…’

‘Crazy?’ Ventures Tumble.

You chuckle quietly. ‘That’s how I’d put it.’

Pounce looks taken aback, ‘That’s not what I meant. More… domineering?’

‘You mean dominating,’ smirks Tumble, ‘You saw what she was doing to Admetus in the mating dance last ball, right? She practically suffocated him!’

You swap an embarrassed look with Pouncival as Tumble guffaws at his own jape. He’s always been like this – almost as crude as Tugger, with none of the suavity. You decide he’s had long enough to laugh, and continue the conversation.

‘You’d have to be crazy to go for Bomba, that’s for sure,’ you state, ‘And besides, she’s still not over Tugger.’

‘How long’s she gonna keep beating that dead horse? Everyone just leaves her alone ever since Misto and Tugger danced their union at the ball!’

‘Well how would you feel if a queen you fancied turned you down, then asked out another queen?’ asks Tumble hotly, ‘And she still has the whole – ‘he coughs ‘ – Demeter thing to deal with.’

‘She must be over Tugger, she spends enough time with him and Misto together!’ cries Pounce desperately.

You growl in annoyance, ‘Get over it Pounce, she’s way out of your league anyway. Set your sights lower, then it’ll be less of a surprise when you succeed.’

It’s at this moment that Victoria enters the clearing. She’s looking the same as ever, her piercing blue eyes and pink nose the only spots on her entre form not covered with white. But as she slinks over to the tyre, you do notice something different. Something… alluring. She hops up and lies between you and Pouncival, looking pleased at the gap in the conversation she’s created.

‘So, boys… What are you talking about?’ she says slyly, in an evident attempt to seem like she already knows the answer.

‘Could it be anything other than you, my dear?’ says Tumble, playing along, ‘Why, I was just asking Pouncival here what he though was your most endearing feature, and he was going to say…’ he raises a paw to Pounce to let him continue the act.

Pounce swallows, then says, somewhat stiltedly, ‘ah – your eyes, of course. Why, they are two limpid pools of – uh – lush-ness.’ He finishes hurriedly and returns the conversation to Tumble, looking increasingly nervous. You all know what a loose cannon Victoria can be, especially after her argument with Rumpleteazer the other night, and the situation has become increasingly awkward between the two of you after you broke off your relationship a few weeks after the most recent ball.

The conversation continues between the four of you, but whenever a question or chance to advance the top comes your way, you bounce it back to Tumble or Pounce. You really don’t feel confident talking to Victoria after how she’s been since the two of you broke up, in particular not in the way that Pounce and Tumble talk to the younger queens – as if they’re the most important but stupid person in the world. You wonder how none of them ever notices – then see the almost murderous look in Victoria’s eyes. She does know.

The look on her face makes the fur on your tail puff right up, and the others notice straight away.

‘What’s the matter, Plato?’ Asks Pouncival.

You lie for a moment, considering your options, then decide meh, it’s not so bad to throw them under the proverbial bus. ‘I see how you two are talking to Victoria,’ you hiss, ‘and as I’m tired of it from this one conversation, I’m sure she is too.’ You take her quickly by the hand, and she seems all too willing to go with you. ‘Come one Vic, let’s get out of here.’ You leave, and give only a brief glance of apology to the startled Pounce and the bemused Tumble over your shoulder as Victoria leads you out of the clearing. She keeps turning around and giving you warm, playful looks. There’s something else there too, but you can’t name it off the top of your head.

‘Plato, I want to ask you something…’ She stops and turns around so fast you nearly run over her. The two of you are standing in a deserted pathway near the den that Tugger and Mistoffelees now share. ‘Why did you call the others out just then? You do the same thing to all the other kittens, just not me after we broke up. Why should I be the one that is treated like an adult instead of an idiot?’

You think to yourself, why did I do that? Why did I sell out my friends? And the answer is so obvious you don’t even have to tell her. She already knows. Your voice seems to have gone on a one-way trip from the train station, so all you can muster is a dry croak. ‘Ever wanted to… Try again?’

‘Of course I did, you were the one that broke it off, not me.’ She answers in that snappy way that drives you crazy.

‘So… shall we?’

The next instant you’re on the floor while the kitten cuddles and cleans you, and re-familiarises herself with your body. It feels so good after so long with no-one this close to you. You sigh. The next few months are going to be interesting.

The following week passes in a blur. You are showered with praise by the kittens, who seem to have been rooting for you and Victoria all along. The other toms around your age seem ambivalent as long as Victoria’s there and disbelieving to the point of rudeness when she’s not. The older cats are completely uncaring about younger relationships – too many go on for some of them to keep track.

The only cats that seem to be affected by the two of you are Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. Whether it’s because of the argument or a previously held conviction, they tend to leave conversations which include Victoria straight away. They don’t seem to care about how conspicuous this is, and often do it in the middle of someone’s sentence. You don’t really mind until Victoria mentions it one night as you approach the den she shares with Jemima.

‘I wish Teazer and Jerrie would just talk to me,’ she sniffs, ‘otherwise how are we going to solve anything?’

You sigh. You’re aware of what this means. ‘I’ll talk to him, he can talk to her,’ you concede, ‘I’ll go and see him tonight before I go home. It’s not too far.’

‘Thanks, sweetie.’ She gives you a quick peck on the nose and hops up the pile of rubbish to the entrance. ‘See you tomorrow night!’

You make your way towards the den Jerrie and Teazer share. It is a long way, despite what you told Victoria, but no matter. You need some time to hunt anyway, you haven’t eaten since last night.

By the time you arrive at their den, you have a fat mouse and a skinny pigeon. Good. That means you can use one of them as a pretence for starting a conversation with Jerrie. You poke a head in the entrance, and the glint of four blue eyes instantly latches on to your face.

‘I brought some food for you guys,’ you say, dissipating the tension that’s already growing. You lob the mouse to them and Teazer snatches is from the air and disappears to put it in the small cavern they’ve dug out as food storage.

‘Great,’ says Jerrie, ‘now, what are you really here for?’

You roll your eyes, ‘It’s never just being friendly with you is it?’

He rolls his eyes, mimicking you. ‘Hey, I’m not the one who brought food just to start a conversation that neither of us want to have.’ He is damnably good at guessing intentions.

‘Fine, let’s go have it and get it over with,’ you growl softly. Why am I doing this? Jerrie never did anything to me! You think, but it’s too late. He’s called to Teazer to let her know he’s stepping out for a second, and he passes you as he leads the way out of the den.

‘What is your problem?’ He hisses at you.

‘You know what my problem is,’ you begin tensely, ‘You keep leaving our conversations whenever Victoria joins them.’

His ears flatten at the sound of her name. ‘We don’t want to talk to her, she doesn’t want to talk to us. What’s the issue there?’

‘She does want to talk to you two. Especially Teazer, she’s one of Vic’s best friends.’ There’s a long silence as you both consider. ‘Look, I know the argument was out of order, but I’ll get her to apologise for that. I… Well, I miss you guys too. You’re by far the most interesting cats here.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ says Jerrie quickly, but his voice is gentle and gruff. ‘But I’m not promising a bloody miracle.’

‘Thanks,’ you say softly, and leave so he can’t go back on his word.

The next night, you talk to Victoria and tell her that Jerrie and Teazer want to apologise, but she should also make an apology so it didn’t seem too one-sided. She protests a little, but the amount she misses Teazer wins her over. The four of you do it in private, beyond the tyre in the main clearing. The apologies are stiff, but the nose rubbing and cuddling afterwards are warm and comfortable. The two queens go off to join the others, and you and Jerrie relax on the tyre, watching them all talk.

‘Thanks for convincing her, Jer,’ you say gratefully, ‘who knows when they would have sorted this out themselves?’

He chuckles softly, in that way he has. ‘No problem. Victoria may be a pain in the ass at times, but we love her. Same with me and Teazer, to tell the truth.’

‘That’s the best kind of love, isn’t it?’ you ask, ‘where you’re halfway between strangling them and kissing them at all times?’

He smiles at you, with a look of someone finding something very valuable, ‘I like to think so. You just… have to be careful with it. Make sure it doesn’t become too much of one side for the situation it is.’

You glance at his face, confused. ‘What do you mean?’

He looks worried for a second, then replaces it with the relaxed face he had a second before. He says, trying to sound casual, but coming off concerned, ‘just be appropriate, Plato. Be… careful.’

Chapter Text

∞Tugger∞

Bombalurina looks at you with disdain clear in her eyes. ‘You did what?’ she gasps.

You shrug lightly. You know she’s kind of turned on. ‘What’s the big deal?’ you ask, feigning confusion, ‘I suspect you’ve done the same sort of thing many times before!’ You flash her with an evil, toothy grin.

‘That’s different, Tugger.’ She snaps defensively.

‘So you don’t deny it then?’ You push further.

Demeter gives a dry cough. ‘Can’t we talk about something else?’ she asks, clearly embarrassed to hear that both her sister and one of her best friends have done that sort of thing.

You swap a cheeky grin with Bomba. ‘For example?’ you ask, ever the gentleman, flashing Demeter with a winning smile.

‘Oooh, I know!’ Exclaims Bomba excitedly, ‘what do you think the argument between Teazer and Vic was all about?’

You sigh. ‘Who cares? I mean, it could be anything knowing what Victoria’s been like the past few years, and they’ve made up now anyway.’ Of course, you already know what the problem was, after spending a lot of time with Teazer while she was repeatedly withdrawing from conversations whenever Victoria entered.

‘I care!’ says Bomba defensively, ‘Teazer’s always such a laugh, I can’t believe she would ever be mean to Victoria, and whenever I brought it up in conversation with either of them, they changed the subject quicker than a pollicle eats its own-‘

‘Victoria told me,’ Demeter cuts across her, in a vain attempt to keep the conversation somewhat above low-brow humour, ‘That Teazer was trying to tell her what to do.’

You toss your head, annoyed. You realize you’ll have to speak on behalf of your best friend. ‘That’s not what happened. Victoria was complaining, as she does, that everyone treats her like a kitten. Teazer was just saying she should tell people her problem, instead of silently despising them. Good advice, I reckon.’ You flash a wink at Bomba. ‘Everything’s so nice once it’s out in the open.’

Thankfully, Demeter misses the joke. You don’t think she would have been particularly impressed if she had. You look out of the den’s entrance, and see that dawn is quickly approaching. You rise. ‘This has been nice ladies. Now to go and find me some dinner.’

The two give their farewells as you walk out the door. You decide to pass by the main clearing to see if there are any kittens you can challenge to a hunting contest. This is a regular trick of yours. You challenge them, then do terribly on purpose, plead for a share of the food they catch, and usually make out like a bandit. Unfortunately, the clearing is deserted, save for Carbuckety, on his boring vigil atop the chair. You give him a nod, and head toward the nearest hunting spot to your den.

You stalk through the garbage piles, trying to make as little sound as possible. The mice will be coming out by now, surely. Though they seem to have started to learn that the cat residents of the Junkyard tend to hunt at night. Listening carefully near an intersection, you hear gentle but sloppy breathing. You round the corner quickly, suspecting Tumblebrutus, the crude kitten.

You freeze.

On the next path are no less than seven pollicle dogs of all shapes and size and colours, all looking very angry. And sitting atop an abandoned cabinet is your brother. He doesn’t look surprised to see you. He even gives an impressive, obviously fake yawn of boredom, showing off his fangs. He pretends to only just have noticed you.

‘Oh, hello Tugger. So nice of you to join us,’ he hisses, sinisterly. Then, lazily to the dogs, he whispers, ‘get him.’

You spin around, hoping to outrun them, hoping to get to Munk’s den, but they’re already atop you in a howling, slobbery pile of claws and teeth and pain.

‘Quietly, you fools!’ growls Macavity. ‘We can’t risk being caught, and we need him alive!’

The dogs hold you down, giving you a view of Macavity as he walks up, spits in your face and rakes his long, evil claws down your chest. Warm, red blood pours out of the four long gashes, pooling on your beautiful coat.

Just before you black out from the pain, you hear the faint whimper of a dog as Macavity gives him a similar treatment.

Chapter Text

∞Demeter∞

You sit on the small part of the car roof which isn’t hidden by trash. Munk’s body is curled gently around your own and Bomba reclines below you. As usual whenever no one else is around, the conversation has dried up. You’re fine with that, as long as there’s some noise of kitten chatter in the background. You have grown to fear the silence. It brings the flashbacks.

Bomba huffs in what is clearly supposed to be a sigh of mild boredom. You and Munk ignore her. It’s funny to see how far she’ll go to get attention. Sure enough, after only ten more seconds of silence, she rolls over and says to the both of you, angrily ‘You guys are so boring. What is it with you two? Even talking with Tanto and Cori is more entertaining than this, and they already know what I want to say!’

You giggle silently to yourself. It’s amusing how annoyed she gets at the smallest things. You decide to aggravate her further, and mewl teasingly, ‘Just because Tugger’s not around, you act as if all the conversation that ever existed has been destroyed. Go look for some entertainment, Bomba. Clearly we’re too slow paced for you.’

She snorts. ‘That’s an understatement. But I’m not leaving alone, you’re coming too!’ You instantly regret teasing her as she grabs you by the waist and pulls you down off the car with her, accidently catching the tail of your mate in the process and eliciting a growl of displeasure. ‘Whoops,’ she giggles merrily, ‘sorry Munk. See ya later!’

The two of you walk out of the clearing to look for something to do in a silence that’s companionable for you but is surely infuriating for her. You decide she’s probably irritated enough already, and ask her chirpily, ‘where are we going, Bomba?’

‘To look for some excitement. And, as luck would have it, excitement’s den is not too far away.’

You sigh inaudibly. The closest dens to you are Exotica’s, Cori and Tanto’s and…

Tugger’s. You both poke your head in the entrance and Bomba calls teasingly, ‘Tugger! We couldn’t stand to be away from you any longer, dear.’ Her face falls. He’s nowhere to be seen, not in any of his numerous back dens. Strange. He rarely strays from his den or the main clearing unless he’s hunting, and he tends to do so near sunrise, and it’s barely midnight.

‘Where next?’ you ask Bomba with a barely conceal smile of satisfaction. You love Tugger, but a break from his crude sense of humour is needed every once in a while.

‘Let’s… check his hunting spots, I guess,’ she murmurs, looking somewhat crestfallen. You know, as she knows, that Tugger is unlikely to currently be in the Junkyard. He must be visiting Old Deuteronomy or his mother, whose name neither you nor Bomba can be bothered to learn all of. The two of you slink off to the abandoned fridge that usually attracts a lot of mice, and each of you catch one. Yours is slightly bigger than Bomba’s and you sit and eat them together, you with a mocking smile and Bomba with a look of concern.

‘You know,’ she mumbles through a mouthful of mouse, ‘I can’t remember the last time Tugger upped and left without telling either of us.’

You finish your mouthful, pondering the thought. ‘We could ask Mistoffelees.’ Unlike most of the other cats, you never shorten Mistoffelees’s name. You think it’s pretty. ‘Or Munk might know,’ you add as an afterthought, though you don’t doubt that Munk would have told you already if he knew where Tugger was.

‘Oh well,’ says Bomba, not one to dwell on a topic that’s saddening to her, ‘he’ll turn up eventually. I just hope he does so before I die of boredom.’ She emphasises the word die so heavily that you flinch. You suddenly become more aware of the sounds around you. You feel a presence that you haven’t felt in a long, long time.

Hello, my pet, says a voice in your head. A voice you know all too well. You whip around, looking for a source, panicking. Bomba isn’t sure what’s happening. Her smile falters and she looks worried.

‘What’s going on? Demeter? Are you okay?’

Time we were getting back where we belong, don’t you agree? says the voice, and then his hands are on you and you don’t know how and you’re screaming with terror, telling Bomba to run and then there’s nothing but blackness and pain and the sensation of movement.

This isn’t happening, you tell yourself desperately. It’s like Munk and Bomba say. It’s only a dream. It’s only a dream. If you repeat it enough, it must become true, it must.

You wake with pains all over and the scent of mating in the air. Your eyes open wide, then close quickly. If you deny your senses, they won’t be true. They can’t be true.

You sneak a glance out of the corner of your eye. The bars are still there, the warehouse beyond. You breathe in through your nose, as steadily as you can. His scent is still there, still all over you. You turn slowly, as calmly as possible.

He’s there, on his sofa, leering at you. His yellow teeth are covered in blood, and his mouth is open in a silent roar.

The blackness of his eyes swallow you, and all is dark.

Chapter Text

∞Munkustrap∞

You watch Demeter and Bombalurina’s retreating backs as they exit the main clearing. Your tail stings, but after a brief inspection and clean, it seems fine. No blood has been drawn.

You sigh as you look over at the two groups of young cats, separated by gender. In a brief glimpse of longing, you fondly remember your time as a kitten. You catch yourself. Shake your head, ruffling your headfur. It’s not your part to yearn for your childhood like an old, decrepit shell of a cat. You must stay strong for the others that can’t. Even where they can’t see your weaknesses.

Your stomach growls, and like so many times within the last few years you realise it’s been at least two nights since you last ate. Demeter often brings you back something from her hunting sessions, but winter is approaching and the rodents are harder to find than ever. She can barely find enough for herself.

You look about the clearing, making sure everything is in order. Nothing seems amiss.

Now you can hunt.

You stay close to the main clearing, only straying as much as a hundred metres away at any time. Food will take longer to catch, but the invisible leash of duty keeps you close to your family. Over the next hour or so, you catch enough food for you to have a meagre supply for the next few nights, and for Demeter to have something tasty waiting for her when she gets back from whatever nonsense Bombalurina has taken her off to.

As you plod thoughtfully back to your den, your mind wanders over your mate. How she’s changed, how that has changed you. You always feel tense whenever she’s out of your sight now. Even when she is, you’re sometimes sure it’s just a cruel hoax and that your foul brother lies underneath her skin instead of the beautiful, sweet cat you fell in love with.

You store your food in the back of your den, and exit again. You climb atop the entrance, and survey the large path it looks over. If you lean right over, you can still see the kittens talking and chatting and playing in the clearing. You wonder if any of them ever think of the things you do.

You hope against hope that they do not.

Returning to the clearing, you sit on the large chair and take note of which cats are present. Most of the young cats are around, in fact all of them except for Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, who are surely up to some burglary or other, collecting supplies for Jennyanydots or presents for some of the other cats. You appreciate their help as much as any other, but you do wish there was a more just way of gaining the valuable items. Many of the elder cats are in their dens, as they often are in order to avoid the ruckus of the kitten conversations and arguments. Demeter and Bombalurina are off looking for Tugger, whom, you realise, you haven’t seen for a few days now. It’s odd of him to disappear without any warning, but it has happened a few times in the past. As you tick off each of the cats you can be sure are accounted for in your mind, you make a mental note to as Mistoffelees where Tugger has gone.

You’re disturbed from your own thoughts as a red figure sprints into the clearing, panting hard. You realise it’s Bombalurina and rise to meet her. She’s gasping like a fish, and you hiss at the sight of a trail of darker red blood standing out against the fur down the side of her leg. She stares up at you with tear-filled eyes.

‘Munk,’ she gasps, ‘it’s Macavity, he was here, in the Junkyard, he did something to her mind, he clawed me and he-‘ She looks up at you with the look of someone realising they’ve just seen the most surprising and horrifying thing in the world at the same time. ‘Munk, he- he took Demeter.’

Your head spins. You stagger against the nearest pile of rubbish and hold on to it for support – something you’re supremely lacking at the present. You allow yourself ten seconds to catch your breath and clear your mind, then you tell Bombalurina sharply, ‘Go and see Jenny, get yourself cleaned up. Take one of the younger cats with you. Be safe.’

She looks at you as if she’s about to cry, ‘Munk, I’m so sorry – she told me to run, told me to save myself – and all I could feel was darkness and pain and the need to escape-‘ She hangs her head in despair. ‘It’s my fault he got her.’

‘Don’t think like that,’ you bark at her, and the mix of sharpness and softness in your tone strikes her off guard. ‘It’s nobody’s fault but his, and we will make him pay for this.’

She nods silently and runs off, grabbing Electra and dashing out of the clearing towards Jenny’s den. You watch her go, and walk over to the group of cats. You talk quickly to Carbuckety and Alonzo, the two toms you trust more than anyone else. You tell them to wait for you in your den. They look confused, but by your tone they know it’s important and obey without question.

You sprint your way towards Tugger’s den, but around hallway there Mistoffelees appears in a flash of lightning in front of you. You see his expression, and pre-emptively tell him, ‘I know where he is. Wait in my den, I have to find Mungojerrie.’

You don’t wait for an answer and find yourself gasping at the entrance to Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer’s den. You call for Mungojerrie and he emerges, looking shocked at your tone. He says your face and his eyebrows lower and knit together. He calls back into the den to Rumpleteazer to let her know he’s going, and the two of you are back at your den in no time flat.

You quickly explain what has occurred to the group, not waiting for any interruptions and simply power on through. By the end, Mistoffelees looks angry, Carbuckety slightly sick and Mungojerrie is clearly trying very hard to hide his fear. But Alonzo’s face shows only something that shows a little on all of their faces.

Determination that this injustice will not be forced upon your tribe any longer.

Chapter Text

∞Electra∞

You both run for the pigeon, grabbing at each other, both desperate to end up in front. The commotion disturbs the fat bird to the point where it flies off before either of you are even close. You both watch in disappointment it as it flies away, landing on a branch of an oak tree overlooking the Junkyard. You give your sister a gently swipe to the back.

‘Good job, idiot,’ you snarl, ‘that feathered fat-ass was going to be my dinner.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ she moans, ‘I would have got there first anyway even if your clumping paws hadn’t scared it off.’

Your eyes narrow, ‘It was you who scared it off, not me.’

‘Was not!’

‘Was too!’

‘Was not!’

As you argue, the two of you walk onwards, looking for more dinner. You turn on your heel, taking your sister by surprise.

‘Where are you going?’ she screeches after you. God, she can be annoying sometimes.

‘To Vic and Jem’s den, of course,’ you tell her levelly, ‘A few more minutes with you, and I’ll have gone mad.’

She giggles, and mockingly cocks her head as she looks at you. ‘Didn’t you do that years ago, Ellie?’

Your ears flatten. You hate that nickname. ‘Could be so. That could be why I haven’t strangled you by now. That or exorbitant amounts of patience for idiots.’

Her smile is threatening to go beyond the borders of her face as she says, playfully, ‘And aren’t we all so grateful for it. You truly are a cat among cats.’ She stops for a second, then continues thoughtfully, ‘Then again, living in a tribe of cats, that’s true of all of us.’

You have to resist facepawing. Her idiocy really winds you up sometimes.

Before too long, you arrive at the small den your best friends Victoria and Jemima share. You playfully shove Etcetera out of the way and poke your head in. As usual in the early evening, Jemima is still sleeping, curled up in the corner of the den. Victoria is nowhere to be seen. You gently wake up Jemima, who starts a little, but then her face falls into the relaxed smile often present when she’s around the other kitten queens.

‘Evening, Jem,’ you smile. You’ve always had a soft spot for Jemima, who almost never fails to be innocent and perky and lacks the untrusting quality given to her elder sisters from their mother disappearing for years when they were young. She was sad for a while after Grizabella ascended to the Heaviside Layer during the last ball – there was such a short amount of time for the three queens to talk to her mother, to forgive her – and then she was gone. You know that she still mourns for the once beautiful queen she inherited her beautiful voice from.

‘Hullo, Electra. Etcetera.’ She gives a friendly nod in the direction of the entrance where your sister is slouching. She looks around for Victoria, who is usually around when you and your sister drop in at the start of the night, and the happiness in her eyes dwindles a little when she notes her absence. But she stand and walks with the two of you to the main clearing, where you sit in a small alcove next to the old car and chat. You talk of toms, of food, of jokes and arguments. Meaningless things, but fun to converse on.

After a while with the continued absence of Victoria, the three of you set out looking for her. When you ask your mother, Jellylorum, she has no idea where your friend could be. Neither do Cassandra, Rumpleteazer or Bombalurina, who sit in a tense little group on the edge of the main clearing. You’re not sure for what reason they have gravitated towards each other, when Cassie and Bomba have such differing opinions on everything, but you all pass it off without remark. You split up, and on your own you share a brief encounter with Tantomile and Coricopat, who assure you that Victoria is safe, but will tell you no more. You understand. Their powers should be used only when absolutely necessary, so as not to pry.

Etcetera thinks to ask Plato, which (though you hate to admit it) is a very good idea. Who would know better where your white-faced companion would be but her boyfriend? You look around the clearing for him, and after making doubly sure he’s not around, the three of you head off to his den.

The minute you step onto the pathway leading to the den Plato shares with Carbuckety, you know something is wrong. Your tail fur puffs up, and you can see the same is true of Jemima and Etcetera. You call Plato’s name in slightly hushed voices, and after a long hesitation, the grey and brown tom appears at the entrance, looking very put out.

‘What?’ he spits at you, and Jemima visibly flinches and shrinks behind you a little. You glare at him.

‘We’re looking for Victoria,’ you say, tight-lipped. ‘We thought you would be the best person to ask.’ He has her scent on him, so she’s almost definitely in his den. There’s something else, too, that reminds you of last year’s ball, but you can’t put your finger on it.

‘She’s not well. As her… boyfriend, it’s my job to look after her.’ He tells you tersely. You didn’t like the sound of that hesitation. He must be hiding something.

‘Can we see her?’ squeaks Jemima from somewhere behind you. ‘We might cheer her up a little!’

‘She’s sleeping right now, but I’ll check with her later if you come back.’ He blinks awkwardly on the word ‘sleeping’, and you’re sure he’s lying. But what could be going on?

‘Well…’ You hesitate. ‘Have you taken her to see Jenny? She’ll know if there’s anything to worry about.’

‘I will once she’s awake and movable. Thank you for your advice and concern,’ he mutters, then turns on his heel and disappears into his den. As the three of you turn and walk away, the others starting a conversation, you think you hear a softer, higher voice from the den.

You don’t like this. Not one bit.

Chapter Text

∞Alonzo∞

You wake in a sweat. Your nightmares have plagued you every day you’re away from Cassie. Every night you see her tortured in the most depraved ways, see her taken against her will while you’re forced to watch the life being beaten out of her.

You have you remind yourself in almost every waking moment that she’s safe at home.

Rousing yourself, you move to the silhouette at the end of the alleyway. Jerrie. Both times you’ve been forced to venture into gang territory, he has insisted on taking almost three times the amount of daytime watches the rest of you do. It doesn’t surprise you that he can’t sleep in this place. If you’d been what he’d been through, you wouldn’t be able to either.

The faint patting of your pawsteps breaks him away from his train of thought and he turns his gaze from the streetlamps opposite to you. He looks remarkably awake for someone who hasn’t slept for a week.

‘Alright, there, ‘Lonz?’ he croaks, throat dry from worry.

You nod, and tell him, ‘Going out to hunt. I’ll bring something back for you if I can.’

He smiles in thanks. ‘Watch yourself.’ The unspoken agreement of this mission is that if you go out by yourself, you are responsible for your own safety. Nobody else. You gulp, and look each way out of the dingy alley before taking off, heading towards the nearby park.

It’s twilight, and the humans that inhabit the park during the day are all gone. You shiver against the oncoming cold, and look about for some opportunities for food. Your fur is almost permanently on end in this place, making you supremely uncomfortable at all times. Not that you could be comfortable this far away from the Junkyard anyway.

The park yields a single small pigeon, so you head towards the restaurant district. Chattering humans are everywhere here, so there’s lots of chances to impress some of them for some scraps. Within the next half an hour or so, you entertain enough humans with your cartwheels and flips to be given just enough food for a meal. You duck in to an alleyway, cradling your spoils against your chest. You hear a hiss behind you, turn your head and then all you know is darkness.

You wake, and around you is a cage made of strong steel bars. You jump and stare around the room in terror. You hear a small sigh of relief to your right. ‘Alonzo,’ comes Demeter’s voice, ‘you’re alive.’

She looks awful, old beyond her years with dark circles under her eyes and her coat all in tatters. But she’s still here, still holding out, and while that’s the case, you have to keep going. For her. For Cassie.

‘Demeter,’ you breathe, ‘the others, they’ll find us, don’t worry.’ You hurry to reassure her. You know from experience how much hope can help a cat.’

‘I know.’ She sits dejectedly on the floor of her cage as if she doesn’t really believe it. ‘Munk would never let me stay here.’

You spring around in shock as a sorrowful wail comes from behind you. The almost invisible black tom in the cage to your left rolls over, and even though his mane is torn and tattered, and his sides matted with blood, there’s no way not to recognise Tugger.

‘Tug!’ you exclaim, and run to his side. He gazes up at you sorrowfully. He forces his face to break into a smile.

‘Hey,’ he slurs, his speech a far cry from his normal drawl, ‘someone did come. Demeter was right.’

His voice wobbles with his speech, and you know something is up. You turn with raised eyebrows to her, worry clouding your mind. She looks even more miserable, if that’s possible.

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with him,’ she whispers hurriedly. ‘He was fine when I first woke up here, but he’s been getting worse with every night. He keeps hallucinating, shouting at the guards, screaming for no reason.’ She looks nauseated to see the strong alpha of the tribe so weak.

‘We’ll get him to Jenny, Demeter, don’t worry.’ You look around and see no guards, so assume that they’re outside the door. You start to formulate a plan within your mind, using only what you have access to. Your collar is gone, presumably taken from you before you were secured in your cell, but you have a small file tangled in your headfur, secured there by Jerrie, who hid tools on each of the rescue mission toms before you set foot in gang territory. He knows how two of the gangs search prisoners, and spent days while you were travelling working out what parts of your bodies he could stash objects on and in.

You retrieve the file and set to work on the bottom of one of the back bars of your cage. After a few minutes of sawing, you take a look at your progress and sit back in displeasure. The notch you’ve created is so small, it can barely be seen. At such a rate, it could be weeks before you get out of you own cage, let alone release Tugger and Demeter.

You sigh and get back to work. It may be slow, but it’s the only option you have.

The next few days blend into sleep and disgusting food and the faded pain that comes with loss of hope. When you’re resting from sawing away at your cage, you lie there, dejected, trying with all your might to reach Cassie, or Mistoffelees, or Munkustrap – anyone who could possibly help ease the suffering of you and your friends.

Demeter is taken out of her cage periodically, but you never see her return. You just wake up and she’s there. You hate to think what happens in these times.

You’re lying there one night (or day, it’s hard to tell without windows), and you’re surprised to hear Demeter break the silence as a pollicle guard walks in.

‘Hello, Bic. How’s the shift.’

‘Awful, as always.’ The brown and black bitch doesn’t bother to ask how Demeter’s life is going. She knows, and who doesn’t? It’s plain to see.

‘This is Biscuit, Alonzo,’ Demeter addresses you. You sit up and nod in silent greeting to the dog, who does the same back. You resist the smart comments you could make about that stupid name.

‘So you’re one of the brave souls they sent to rescue poor Demmie here.’ She looks at you in pity, as if considering your worth. She steps closer to your cage, and you can’t help but back away. The bitch looks at you sharply. ‘Come here,’ she says in her rough accent, ‘and that’s an order.’ You scurry to obey, and bow your head as you sit at the front of your cage, waiting for a beating.

Instead, she starts whispering very fast in your ear. ‘Listen, I can get the three of you out of here. All you have to do is agree to take me with you. I can get the keys for your cages, and my authority here as a long-serving officer will keep the other dogs off me. We can go tomorrow.’

You look up at her, aghast, but the look on her face tells you not to thank her. She slips back into a violent, take-charge mode and nips you on the ear. ‘And next time I tell you to do something, do it quicker,’ she snarls in the tone of voice you know from the pollicles you’ve seen before. She slips out of the room, and you sit back on your heels in trepidation.

You consider the exchange that just occurred. Does she truly want to help you? Or is it a trick, a cruel hoax, designed to punish you even more? You decide you might as well try it. You’ve got nothing to lose at this point, and so much to gain.

You spend the night trying your hardest to get through to Mistoffelees, but he must be on guard against Macavity, as the brief moments you spend in his thoughtstream are quickly thwarted. You can’t sleep, know you won’t.

The time comes, and Biscuit returns. She opens each of you cells in turn, and you haul Tugger onto your back. You walk out of the room with her, and there are no guards anywhere to be seen.

You exit the building and the three of you break into a run.

Chapter Text

∞Skimbleshanks∞

Your ears twitch at the noises coming from your den. It's common for you to return home to see one of the younger kits being seen to by Jenny, but this sounds like a full-on group meeting. You enter, and no less than 5 heads turn towards you. They all crack into big smiles and they greet you. You pride yourself on your amiable reputation. Sitting around the table are Munkustrap, Carbuckety, Mungojerrie, Mistoffelees and a dishevelled-looking Alonzo. Jenny stands slightly away from the group with a look of concern on her face. You hear faint breathing from the side den and guess that at least two more cats are in there.

You take your seat at the head of the table, are listen, astonished, as the others fill you in on what's been happening while you were away on the rail. Their tale makes you blood boil with rage and worry. None of them know why Macavity took Tugger, but surely there must have been a good reason for such a risky attack.

As they end their recount, you rise to leave. Alonzo catches your arm before you can even get out of the den.

'Father. Can we talk?' His face clearly shows his concern.

'Of course, Alonzo,' you reply welcomingly, 'I was about to go and do some hunting. Care to join me?'

He silently accepts, and not long after, the two of you are sitting on the old sofa near Tugger's den, eating your spoils. Alonzo doesn’t look like he has much appetite, and after a small while he gives up on his pigeon. He turns to you.

‘Father, that pollicle saved our lives,’ he says gravely, ‘that is not something that can go un-noticed. Surely there is something we can do for her?’

You shake your head with a solemn sadness. ‘We can give her food and inform her of the areas to avoid, but she’ll never be truly safe. The only way she could be completely free from Macavity would be if she joined the tribe, and it’s against our laws for dogs to become members.’ Alonzo looks more downcast than ever. ‘I’m sorry, Alonzo but there’s nothing I can do about it.’

He shakes his head, as if to clear it. ‘Father, you took me in when I was no older than two weeks. You raised me up, gave me a home, and friends, and a family. You gave me more than I ever would have had without you. I cannot ask you for more.’ He sighs. ‘I just wish there was something we could do for her. All she’s ever known is terror and abuse and having to hurt others for her own safety. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were just the same when they came to us.’ You breath slightly hitches as he says their names, but you don’t think he notices. You’ve always had a soft spot for the siblings you found injured and crying for their lives in the Junkyard. Alonzo continues, ‘We took in Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer when they were in the same situation, and this dog has even helped our own cats to escape Macavity’s tyranny. Surely, she has done more for our tribe than many others ever have. Why should it be any different for her than for Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer?’

You sit up in shock. You can’t think of any reason other than the fact the laws forbid it. ‘Alonzo…’ you begin, unsurely, ‘There is one thing you could do, but you if it goes awry, you cannot tell a single soul that I gave you the idea.’ You lower your voice until it’s barely a whisper. ‘You could give her a den. Show here places she can hunt outside the Junkyard to get food. She wouldn’t be a member of the tribe, but you and your friends could see her whenever you wanted, and she would be safer than if she was on the streets.’

Alonzo’s eyes light up, and you feel a tired sort of happiness. Everything is going to be fine.

‘Thank you father,’ Alonzo says and rises to leave.

 You call after him, ‘Alonzo.’ He turns, inquisitively. You sigh, then tell him, ‘Go and see Cassandra. I know she missed you terribly. It’s not her fault, not anyone’s but Macavity’s. Go and be with her for a while, make up the time you’ve missed.’

His face breaks into a smile, and he nods before leaving by the path. You smile to yourself and recline to eat the rest of your rat.

Chapter Text

∞Jennyanydots∞

You look the black tom up and down. He looks far better – his coat is clean, his eyes focussed and he’s holding himself much like he did before. You check the bandages on his forearm and apply a fresh set. As you rub a salve into the cut skin on his back, he sighs in gratitude.

‘Thank you for all this, Jen,’ he smiles, ‘I would have been absolutely screwed if not for you.’

You nod, tutting quietly to yourself at how the deep cut of Macavity’s claws on his face is still very much apparent. ‘No thanks to me is necessary, dear. It’s a pleasure for me to keep you looking as good as you can.’ You pause, then add, ‘be sure to let Rumpleteazer know how grateful you are, though. She’s been out in Victoria Grove collecting medicines for you and Demeter more than she’s been in the Junkyard these past few weeks.’

He nods, and says he will, and you smile at his back as he leaves. You turn and begin cleaning up, putting the dirty bandages in the wicker basket you use as a bin. You would clean them, but they are utterly soaked in a mixture of Tugger’s blood and your poultices.

Your ears twist as you hear Tugger’s usual drawl from outside.

‘Hello beautiful. Going to see Jenny, eh? Anything that’s going to dull that lovely white coat of yours?’

You can’t make out Victoria’s squeaked response, but sure enough, she enters and crosses the room to you. You smile your friendliest smile, and say, soothingly, ‘Hello Victoria, what can I do for you?’

She looks a little down, a little queasy perhaps. She hesitates. You press her, ‘is it your stomach, dear, is that it? Have you been vomiting?’

She nods. ‘How did you know?’ she asks confusedly.

You smile again, and tap the side of your nose. ‘Just something I learnt from bringing up all those noisy little toms.’ You busy yourself with making Victoria a small remedy for the moment. You inquire, ‘What have you been eating the past few nights, my dear?’

‘Just rats, mostly,’ she replies, looking remarkably interested in her paws.

‘Try changing to birds for the next few days, if you can,’ you recommend, ‘some of the rodents around here carry some nasty bugs.’ You hand her the small parcel, and tell her, ‘Eat this with your next meal. If you can’t catch any birds, I’m sure that lovely Plato will oblige you. You smile a final time, and bid her goodbye. She leaves with quiet thanks and not a lot else.

A few weeks later, while sitting in the clearing for a full night, you notice that, while Victoria is looking well and chatting happily with the other young cats, she is being handed food by Plato nearly every half-hour. When she stands to leave, you call her over on the pretext of walking her back to her den.

‘Victoria, my dear, is everything okay? You seem to be eating an awful lot this evening.’ You pause, realising how rude you sounded. ‘Not to be impolite, I’m just concerned.’

She ponders this for a while before answering, ‘I don’t know what’s going on. I used to be so sleek and slender and now I’m finding it more difficult to move around, and I’m always hungry, and I… I think I’m getting fat!’ At the last part of her sentence she bursts into tears, and you pull her into a warm, comforting hug.

This continues for a few minutes, then you tell her, ‘Come on, dear, let’s go back to my den. I’ll have a look at you, check everything’s in order.’ You know it isn’t, but you have to do what you can for the poor dear, she’s hysterical.

Within a few minutes, Victoria’s sitting in your most comfortable chair while you examine her. You realise that she has grown a little at the waist, and her stomach intermittently growls. She seems very embarrassed about this, and after a particularly loud gurgle, she rubs her hand over her belly and murmurs, ‘I’m sorry, Jenny, I’m just so hungry.’ You’re about to tell her not to worry, it’s not her fault, when she squeaks in surprise.

‘Jenny! I felt something inside my stomach poke out!’ Her eyes fill with terror, and you try to calm her down.

‘I’m sure it was just your imagination, my dear, what could it be?’ At this she looks mortified, but determined.

‘No, I’m serious, look! Feel!’ She grabs your hand and holds it over her belly, right where her hand was. Nothing happens for a moment. You’re about to tell her you don’t feel anything, but then you do.

Your mind flies to a time several years ago, when you were sitting in the very chair she is now, with darling Skimble holding your hand in the same way, except over your own belly. The first time you felt your children. The first kick.

Your mind races. You sit back in your chair, feel all the blood drain from your face. You swallow thickly, and tentatively ask Victoria, ‘Darling, have you and Plato – ah… mated at all?’

She looks terrified, younger than ever as she says, slowly, as if confessing, ‘Um, yes. When I was on my heat. I didn’t really want to, but all the feelings came over me, and then I did want to, and he didn’t understand what was happening. We… all the way through my heat.’

You feel some level of relief. At least it’s someone in the tribe, so she’ll have someone to support her.

She shakes her head, as if just realising what was said. ‘Jenny, I… I don’t want kits. I’m not ready – I, I’ve only just had my first heat!’

You nod gravely. A surprising amount of the queens who have had litters in the Junkyard have had a similar reaction when you’ve told them. In the most soothing voice you can muster, you tell her, ‘If you don’t want to have them, there is a way. But while you stay here in this Junkyard, and your mate is a member of the tribe, your kittens will have a better life than the vast majority of cats in this world. It’s your choice, I won’t try to persuade you either way.’

She sits for a long time, until the Sun starts rising outside. She stands, turns to you, and takes your hands.

‘Would you say having kittens was the best thing you ever did?’

You don’t even think. ‘Of course I would. They bring me more joy than anything else ever could.’

Victoria nods slowly. ‘Jenny, please… keep this to yourself. You can tell Skimble, and I suppose Old Deuteronomy will have to know when he next visits. I’ll tell Plato, I’ll go now.’

You nod. Discretion is the choice of the patient, after all.

Her eyes fill with tears, and she wrenches you into a strong hug, full of maternal love from both of you. ‘Thank you so much,’ she whispers, and walks out of the den.

Chapter Text

∞Deuteronomy∞

You have often described the feeling of being greeted when you return to the Junkyard as the best in all the world. When all kittens are cuddling you and the older cats hold you by the paw, you feel at home, safe, rested.

The kittens continue to follow you all the way to Tugger’s den, where you shoo them off gently and enter to find your son laying down with a blanket pillow and a concerned Mistoffelees at his back. You smile. They’re so happy together.

Tugger looks a little worse for wear, as could be expected by such an experience, but you don’t mention it and the three of you make small talk for a while. As Mistoffelees is making some sweet comment about Rumpleteazer’s new pearls, he freezes for a second, then slightly rolls his eyes and smiles.

He calls, jokingly, in the direction of the entrance, ‘It’s not like you to listen in on conversations, Skimble!’

There’s a quiet gasp from outside and from that, and the probable look of surprise on your face, Tugger bursts out laughing.

Sure enough, the gentle Scottish voice of Skimbleshanks comes from the entrance, ‘I wasn’t trying to, though from the sounds of it you already know that. I wanted a word with Deuteronomy, if it pleases you.’

You smile in slight disbelief at this mind-sensing jape Mistoffelees has managed to pull off, but rise slowly and make your way outside. Skimble greets you warmly, and leads you by the hand to a secluded clearing that seems a little too far away than is necessary, but you don’t complain. He’s one of your oldest friends, after all.

He helps you to sit on an upturned children’s cot and settles himself on an old television with a smashed screen. The ginger tom looks somewhat apprehensive, and you don’t doubt that the matter has something to do with the recent occurrences involving your son. He considers for a while, then asks you, ‘How much do you know of what happened?’

You shrug, not wanting to discuss such matters in depth. ‘I know that Macavity took Tugger and Demeter and the younger toms went to rescue them. I know Alonzo was also captured during the attempt. I know that the three of them escaped without help from the other toms, found them and made their way back here.’

Skimble nods, and enquires, ‘Does it not seem strange to you that Alonzo managed to escape along with a queen in emotional trauma and a tom who could not walk – without the help of the others?’

You see the glint in his eye, and know there’s something you haven’t been told. ‘How did they get out then?’

‘One of Macavity’s pollicle guards. Demeter befriended her and she emptied the building of Macavity’s other minions and unlocked them.’ He looks at his paws, as if ashamed. ‘I gave her a den, in thanks for saving my son.’

You catch yourself just before staring, and mull this turn of events over. A dog… in the Junkyard? Such a thing has never happened before. Skimble sees your concern, and tells you, ‘I haven’t told anyone, and she’s about the furthest away from the main clearing as I could find a den big enough for her. She hunts outside of the Junkyard, and only returns during the day when most of us are asleep.’

You nod. All these conditions are necessary if the pollicle is to stay here. ‘I’ll… I’ll have to discuss it with the council, you understand?’

Skimble nods. ‘Munkustrap already knows, but Tantomile and Tugger haven’t. Demeter visits her every few nights to make sure she’s ok, but she’s so terrified to leave the Junkyard at the moment that if the dog had to leave… they may never see each other again.’

You swallow thickly. To deprive Demeter of contact with the dog that saved her life after all she’s been through… You’re instantly on the side of the pollicle. ‘I’ll do my best to convince the council, Skimble. I can’t make any promises.’

Your old friend’s face cracks into a smile of thanks. The two of you rise and begin to make your way towards the main clearing.

‘Oh, and Jenny told me I could tell you,’ continues Skimble, ‘That Victoria is having kittens.’

This gives you pause. ‘At her age?’

‘I know, it’s not ideal. But the father’s in the tribe so they’ll be brought up well, better than a few of us in the tribe were ourselves.’ He sees your raised eyebrows. ‘Plato.’

You nod. Even at the last ball, they had been showing an awful lot of affection for each other. With a sigh, you remember the terror you felt the first time you knew you had kittens on the way. The only thing that comforted you was the happiness of feeling that first kick, the comfort of holding Tugger in your arms for the first time. You make a mental note to visit Plato to have a chat later.

As you enter the main clearing, and look around at the large amount of cats you consider your family, you wonder, not for the first time, why you were chosen in particular to be the lucky father figure to so many wonderful characters. Your face cracks into a smile as, serious matters forgotten, you are hugged and pulled over to catch up with Gus, Jellylorum and Jenny.

Chapter Text

∞Mungojerrie∞

The dog is practically shaking with nerves as you wait with her in a clearing quite close to the main one where all the others are. Your attempts at a conversation have been met with short, one-word answers and you’ve pretty much given up on trying to calm her nerves. You survey her with your bright teal eyes, not unkindly. Bic’s still a little dishevelled, as one who lived her entire life in gang territory can be excused for. You’ve found an affinity with her, and you’re sure Tea will do the same – it’s not often you meet someone else who’s had to perform Mac’s cruel acts themselves.

Once again you turn to the sky and look for the star Old Deuteronomy instructed you to bring Bic in at the sight of. From the moon, 5 to the left, 4 down – it’s there, though slightly less clear than the others. It must have just reappeared as the stars tend to do each night above the Junkyard. You’ve often wondered if the Everlasting Cat herself organised that to help the tribe she so loves, though you doubt you’ll ever know the answer.

You stand, and though she can’t see the star herself, Biscuit rises with you. She’s obviously nervous, and you don’t blame her – a dog walking into a cluster of cats that can take Mac’s gang in a fight is almost always suicide, after all – but you’re sure you can only see the shaking in her legs because you’re looking for it.

The two of you round the final corner into the main clearing and instantly a vast amount of glistening eyes train onto you. Most of the cats seem curious, though a little skittish. As you’d expected, most of the cats younger than you and Tea are right at the back, peering through gaps but trying not to be seen. Of course, all the toms who helped Biscuit escape with Dem and Tugger are smiling at her reassuringly, and Skimble, Tea and Demeter too. You haven’t introduced Bic to your sister yet, but you’re sure they’ll get on like a house on fire. The only cat in the tribe you can’t see is…

‘Bic! So good to see you!’, his lazy drawl breaks the silence as he strides from between the bars to the right of the car, where you hadn’t even noticed him. Tugger. His mane is barely reformed after Macavity shaved it, and he still has huge scars across his chest and face, but the Jellicle golden boy still looks better than most toms in the yard could ever dream to. He takes the dog by the paw and introduces her to some of the friendlier cats, starting with Jenny and Admetus. You scowl to yourself as he leads her over to Teazer – you’d wanted to introduce them – but as she is greeted softly by Mistoffelees, you slink over to sit beside your beautiful sister.

She’s not quite watching the dog, but every now and then you see her eyes flick from the birds whose direction she’s looking in to the tall Maine Coon and the new addition to the Junkyard. Your tail is just finding its way across her back when she turns suddenly to you, as if only just noticing your presence.

‘Heya, Teazer,’ you smile too-sweetly, pleased as always to have some ammunition for arguments’ sake, ‘Did I scare you? Terribly sorry.’

‘Yeah, should’ve known your stench when you were five yards behind me,’ she retorts lightly, ‘So this is what you’ve been keeping from me, is it?’

Your ears go flat. ‘I – Uh – Yeah. Sorry, Tea. Deuteronomy made us promise not to tell anyone before he did. Said the announcement had to be made the right way to avoid ‘complications’.’ You pause, and look at all the smiling faces surrounding their new-found friend. ‘Though to me it looks like there’ll be no issues at all.’

Your sister smiles to herself in agreement and forgiveness. You knew she’d understand. You hate to disobey the requests of the higher-ups here – they’ve given you so much, you can’t let them down.

The two of you cuddle, there in the alcove Tea chose opposite the car, and are slowly joined by a few of your friends. For a while, everything seems nice and happy.

Then, while you talk to Coricopat, you see his smile falter. Your fur rises – he and his twin Tantomile have a knack for sensing trouble.

‘What is it, Cori?’ squeaks Teazer from your side, her face a painting of confusion.

He shakes his head, barely moving the short headfur there. ‘A… presence. It was there, but as soon as I felt it, it was gone.’

This gives you pause. The only cats you know with the power to conceal their psychic presence are the twins, Mistoffelees and Exotica. Wait. That’s not true. There’s another, and just as that thought pops into your head, it’s gone again.

Blood red.

Blinding pain.

Fire burning through your mind.

Just like that, it’s gone and you come to your senses in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by cats screaming and groaning with the pain you all felt. You spin, making your head swirl, but you see him leaving –

Them leaving.

Because in Macavity’s arms as he bolts, fires breaking out behind him, is a white figure you know.

A white figure who can only be Victoria.